Category: Stanglin Family (Page 15 of 25)

Weekend Links

JohnnyFootball

Kevin Sherrington has written a truly horrible column explaining exactly why Johnny Manziel is destined to be a Dallas Cowboy. His facts are correct, his logic is sound, and I can’t find any fault with his disturbing conclusion. The last line of the column is wonderful. The rest of it may keep you awake tonight.

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My esteemed brother, Dr. Keith Stanglin, has written a piece on discipleship for the Austin Grad blog, Christian Studies. Using James’ and John’s request to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus in his coming Kingdom from the story in Mark 10, Keith breaks down the main reason so many of us want to follow the Christ from a distance. We want the glory without the suffering. We want to live a new life without suffering the death. We want to lose weight without giving up the Blue Bell. BlueBellLogo

Yes, he mentions Blue Bell in his article. Of course! He’s my brother!

By the way, the United Supermarket at 45th and Bell here in Amarillo, Whitney’s United, the one less than a mile from our house, will be selling Blue Bell ice cream beginning at 5:00 this Monday morning. The signs went up all over the store on Tuesday. Finally, Blue Bell is back in the panhandle! Carley and I are planning on showing up at about 4:45 to buy some of the first offerings and, yeah, eat ice cream for breakfast. It’s going to be like living in Texas again.

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I’m writing a faith column now for the Amarillo Globe-News. I’m in a rotation with four other guys, so my column will run once every five Saturdays. I haven’t written a regular newspaper column — is every five weeks regular? — since I was penning a weekly sports column for the Burnet Bulletin during the early 1990s. My first one here in Amarillo came out today.

Peace,

Allan

Home with the Blue Bell… Barely!

BlueBellChest

There was a short time — only for three or four months many, many years ago — back when I was still trying to get established in a full-time radio career that I worked a part time job as a courier in Dallas. I delivered very important packages all over Dallas/Ft.Worth, from business to business, time-sensitive documents, back and forth, criss-crossing all of North Texas. Every now and then, maybe a couple of times a week, I’d be handed something sealed up in an ice-chest to drive from one hospital to another hospital. And told to hurry.

Those strange and adrenaline-producing feelings came rushing back today, energizing all of my senses, as I packed the ice chest in the back seat and headed from Dallas to Amarillo. The precious and extremely time-sensitive cargo: one half gallon of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream and one half gallon of Blue Bell Cookies and Cream.

A few of you were concerned enough about my mission to offer some very helpful advice by email and text. Thank you. Yes, I did pack the chest with ice last night and let it all get very cold for fifteen hours before I put the ice cream in there this afternoon. No, I did not use dry ice (too expensive and a little dangerous) nor did I put salt in the ice (maybe I should have). Yes, I wrapped both half-gallon cartons inside two plastic bags.

I only stopped once. I kept the inside of the truck as cool as I could stand it. I was in the truck for just under six hours. And when I got home, it looked like to me not one bit of the ice had melted. I felt really good about it. Until I started digging out the ice cream. The cartons were both a little mushy on the top and leaking out of the lid just a little. Just a little. But it all felt very, very soft.

Carrie-Anne is in Austin for a culinary arts training seminar, Carley is in Abilene for a girls church conference, and Whitney’s at work. And they’re all three texting me about the ice cream. How’s it going? Did it make it? Is it melted? Did it work?

I carefully opened up the cartons and stuck a spoon in the middle of each one. It was like sticking a straw into the middle of a really thick shake. I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to the rest of the family. C-A responded with a crooked smile emoji. Carley sent back a really enthusiastic “If it can hold up a spoon, it’s solid enough!”

BlueBellMelt

She was right. Oh, my. So good.

I’m worried that we won’t ever see Blue Bell in Amarillo again. They’ve decided to cut back from distributing to 23 states down to a total of fifteen. Even after all four phases of the new rollout are complete, sometime next year, eight states won’t be on the list. Among those states that Blue Bell is permanently cutting off: Colorado and New Mexico. I’m scared that means bad news for those of us in the oft-forgotten hinterlands of our great state.

Today might have been a practice run for future ice cream bootlegging operations. I did learn a couple of lessons; I think I can do better next time. And while it may not be quite as important as running a kidney or a liver to a hospital for a potentially life-saving operation… it’s similar. Very similar.

Peace,

Allan

From Denver

DenverAirportThe very first time I ever flew in an airplane was with Carrie-Anne. We took off from the airport in Amarillo for Denver where we would connect to a flight to Las Vegas where we were married at 11:30 at night in the basement of the Clark County courthouse by sheriff’s deputy Sherrill Meyer. That was twenty five years ago.

Today, C-A and I have flown to Denver from Amarillo where we’re having breakfast at McDonald’s and waiting on our flight to Hawaii to celebrate the silver anniversary of that wild weekend in Vegas. Funny how things have come full circle over this quarter century together. The last time we were in this airport, we bought over-priced matching Denver Broncos sweatshirts: white with the old vintage Broncos logo helmet on the front. Why? We have no idea. We were young and in love and wanted matching shirts for some reason. Plus some souvenir, I guess, from our two hour stay in Denver.

Today, we’ve purchased matching egg sandwiches. We’re old and in love. Still in love. And looking very forward to spending the next ten days together in a wonderful place we’ve never been.

Thanks to Steve and Becky and Scott and Brenda for agreeing to check up on our daughters while we’re away. Thanks to Cortnie and Aleisha and Hannah for being such dependable friends and making sure our daughters don’t just sleep ’til noon and watch “Castle” re-runs all day long while we’re gone. And thanks to God above that B.J. is in Killeen for the next three weeks!

Peace,

Allan

Snow Day!

Well, our biggest snowman ever actually became the biggest and creepiest snowman ever. I was mainly the muscle for the project while Carley provided the artistic inspiration and interesting touches. As big as it is and as much snow is packed into that thing, I’m afraid I’ll be mowing around it in May.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carley and I finished him up late this afternoon following our sledding adventure with the Dowells and the Schaffers and all their kids at Medi-Park. Nobody slid all the way into the pond a la It’s a Wonderful Life (“Not my sore ear!”) And I only plowed over one four-year-old kid while we were there. There’s nothing quite like screaming completely out of control down a steep hill with fifty other persons all around you, some of them quite large in their 40s and 50s, some of them quite tiny little pre-Kingergardeners, and every size and age in between. We didn’t lose anybody out there today. When everybody makes it home, it’s a good day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peace,

Allan

Iola!

I don’t think she was named for the long time news anchor at Channel 8 in Dallas. Until twenty-four hours ago, Iola Johnson was the only Iola I’ve known. But the winter storm that blew through here overnight dumped twelve inches of light, fluffy, beautifully wet snow on the Texas panhandle, canceling work and school for everybody in our family except Whitney. United Supermarkets doesn’t close for snow.

(This paragraph contains some theological humor. Very little theological humor.) The  light mist began at around lunch time yesterday, at which point Howard Griffin at First Presbyterian and Burt Palmer at Polk Street United Methodist informed us they were canceling all their Wednesday evening programming. At about 3:30, just as the rain was first starting to turn into snow, Howie Batson texted, “First Baptist is going ahead with our regularly scheduled classes and meetings tonight. The Methodists have always been too afraid of water.” Burt, of course, was quick with his reply: “If we were guaranteed it would only be a sprinkling, we would have stayed with our schedule!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, it wasn’t a sprinkling. All of Amarillo was baptized in the white stuff. I think the entire panhandle, from Dalhart to Childress received at least eight inches. And today, as the last little bits of tiny flakes move through, there is absolutely no wind at all. None. It’s just as still as can be. Perfect for playing outside. I just finished shoveling our massive driveway so I can get out to the alley to take Whitney to work. Carley’s already out there building a snow-rabbit for some reason. Later we’ve promised to build the biggest snowman either one of us has ever seen. Maybe.

The pictures on this post are mainly for my dad. Mom, I’m sure you’ll have to print them off and hand them to him.

Peace,

Allan

Raised with Christ

“Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.” ~Colossians 3:1-4

Our youngest daughter, Carley, was baptized into Christ Jesus on Sunday. She publicly renounced the ways of the world and confessed the ultimate lordship of Jesus and her commitment to him. She was buried with him — symbolically, sacramentally; she was raised with Christ — symbolically, sacramentally — to walk in newness of eternal life with our King. She has been forgiven by God of every sin she’s ever committed and will ever commit against his great holiness. She is now indwelled by God himself in the form of his Spirit — symbolized by the first huge breath she took after coming up out of the watery grave. And she belongs exclusively to our heavenly Father. She is his and he is hers. Forever. Amen.

As we talked and prayed with Carley this past week, she asked me almost every night, “Who’s going to do the ‘Since then…?'”

The “Since then…” is the congregational reading of Colossians 3:1-4. It’s a baptismal tradition/liturgy at the Legacy church we initiated with the opening of the new worship center there in 2008. As soon as the newly baptized follower came up out of the water, the congregation would recite those words of blessing and challenge, of affirmation and commission. It was — and still is — a powerful way for the church to participate in the baptism and for the wet Christian to feel the strength of belonging now to a baptized community.

Well, we don’t do that here at Central.

Yes, we clap and cheer and sometimes even stand and shout when someone is baptized. Several people are usually waiting backstage to pray with the newly baptized brother or sister afterward . For teenagers, as many as thirty or forty people will crowd back there to offer congratulations and prayers. But our worship center is built and our baptistry positioned in such a way that congregational participation in a baptism event itself is all but impossible. Our baptistry is some 25-feet up in the air, far removed from the church itself. People on the very front pews are still 75-feet away from the water and are forced to watch the baptisms on the giant screens. Folks scattered around the giant room are even farther away and have no choice but to watch it on the screens. I was dismayed Sunday to walk out into the water in front of our church with my wife and our youngest daughter, and look out into our loving congregation to see 99-percent of them not looking at us, but watching on the screens. And we’re in the same room! Our building has turned baptisms into a spectator event.

But I asked our brothers and sisters to read the “Since then…” to Carley when she came up out of the water. We put the words on the screen. And they did it. It was beautiful. It was powerful. It honored us as a family. And it meant the world to Carley.

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you, Central Church of Christ, for loving our daughter and our whole family the way you do. Not a day goes by that we don’t recognize how blessed we are to be with you. Thank you to our small group and Carley’s middle school Muddle families who blessed us so wonderfully at our home Sunday night. You poured truth into our daughter. You affirmed her; you challenged her; you read God’s Holy Word to her and promised to always love her. Thank you. Thank you to the Popes and the Marshalls who drove thirteen hours round trip from Legacy to rejoice with us this weekend. Your friendship is a testament to the faithfulness of our God. And thank you to Carrie-Anne’s mom and my parents who sacrificed a lot to be here this past weekend. You received the Christian faith from your parents, you passed it on to your children, and you are blessing us as we pass it on together to your grandchildren. Thank you.

Carley, you now belong to our God. Paul told the Christians in Galatia that you are a daughter of God by faith when you clothe yourself with Christ by baptism (Galatians 3:26-27). When you were baptized Sunday, you put to death the old Carley. You killed that girl; you buried her. And when you came up out of the water, you were a brand new creature. God has created something brand new inside you Carley, so that by his Spirit you will experience all of life in a brand new way. Death has nothing on you now, precious daughter. And neither does sin.

Our prayer for you, Carley, is that our God will bless you richly with his grace and peace, his protection and provision. Our great desire is to see you become more and more like our Lord. Our eternal hope is that you walk with him faithfully, all the way to the end.

We love you. And we are so proud of you. And we know your life in Christ is going to result in praise and glory to God. May his holy will be done in you and through you, Carley, just as it is in heaven.

Love, like you just can’t believe,

Dad

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